


Reboot

by Monsterunderkilt



Series: The Manse [1]
Category: Celebrities & Real People - Fandom, Real Person Fanfic - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 13:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16913634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsterunderkilt/pseuds/Monsterunderkilt
Summary: The holy triumvirate of husbands who have never wronged me—Jon, Stephen, and Stevezie—help me figure out what to do about Thomas, who has strayed from perfection.





	Reboot

**Author's Note:**

> After not exploring my mental holodeck full of favorite celebs in years, I banged this one out one night to express my trust in 3 of my favorite husbands and one boyfriend who disappointed me gravely. It was too much fun. I really need to get back to this shit.
> 
> Written October 18, 2016

This morning, I nailed a proclamation on the front door of the Manse, Martin Luther style.

"Auditions?" Jon asks no one in particular. "She's holding auditions for Manse dwellers, old and new?"

"Read it and weep," Stephen says as he walks up and slaps Jon on the back. "Looks like she took my advice after all."

"What advice?"

Stephen crosses his arms over his chest and smiles. "That she vet or re-vet everyone in her fantasy world, just to make sure she has exactly what she needs."

"Did she re-vet you, then?"

"Oh, she vetted me alright," Stephen says with a proud nod. "She vetted me soooo hard."

"Hey guys," Stevezie says as he steps past them to open the door. He points at my sign. "You, uh... have an appointment?"

* * * *

The cushion of my plush leather office chair squeaks as I lean back and stare at the endless list of tabloid articles on my google search. I scan the headlines and shake my head, then I hold a finger to my lips as I finally look up at the latest hopeful to respond to my door ad. He is silent and stoic as he sits in the chair on the other side of my desk. He's wearing a suit as smart as Stephen Hawking of course, but his eyes are unblinking and doe-like, awaiting an uncertain fate.

"Thomas," I say darkly. "Thomas."

His head dips a little, and he stares at his lap.

"You have a lot to atone for."

"I appreciate that, Madam."

"Not many of my fantasy men have ever spent any time on my Dead To Me list."

"Understood."

"You also understand that due to the recent... turn around... you are provisionally On Notice."

"I am grateful for your grace, Madam."

I close up the iPad and set it aside, folding my hands in my lap as I look over towards Stevezie, who is sitting casually on the sofa nearest my desk. He gives me a look I've seen many times before: wise, forgiving, but cautious. I close my eyes and nod once, then look back at Tom.

"I cannot grant you a position in the Manse-"

"I can explain for you-"

I hold up a hand. "I don't require your explanation right now. In fact, you have a better chance of a future here if you lay low for a while. Work on some worthy projects. Do some goddamn Shakespeare. Go be sexy in things to remind me why I loved you in the first place. It'll take time, though. Don't rush it. Come back after a few movies and we'll reassess your rankings."

Tom purses his lips, then nods and stands up. He bows. "Thank you for your time, Madam. I look forward to a potential future."

I nod. At least he's still a perfect gentleman. "Please send in the next applicant on your way out."

Just as Tom reaches for the door, it swings open and both Jon and Stephen appear.

"Caity!" Jon says sternly as he sidesteps Tom and makes a few giant strides towards my desk.

"Jon, you have to wait your turn like everyone else!" Stephen says as he grabs his friend's arm.

Jon tries to slap Stephen away. "Caity, bubbe, my shiksa goddess in the floating Manse in the sky, I take issue with having to endure this treatment-"

"Shut the damn door," I say, waving at Stephen. He shoos Tom out and closes it firmly.

Jon attempts to calm himself as he places his hands on my desk. "Now look, I understand you're in a delicate place and you have to trust everyone implicitly, but I resent not getting special dispensation-"

"Oh, Jon, just sit down with Stevezie and relax. You're grandfathered in, pupik. Cool your tits."

Jon is taken aback. "Oh, OK. Thank you."

I smile and stand up, leaning over to kiss him squarely on the lips. "No problem, sweetie."

Just over Jon's shoulder, I notice Stephen is fuming.

"Wait, why did you insist on vetting me and not him?!" he asks shrilly. "Don't I deserve to be grandfathered in? How dare you-"

"Are you saying you didn't *enjoy* the 'vetting process,' Stephen?"

He huffs and stares me down. "Is that how you vet everyone, Madam?"

"No, just you."

He steps closer and takes a deep breath. He leans in and whispers, "Will there be a second round of vetting this evening?"

"I can vet you all week if you like."

Stephen smiles wickedly. "You really liked that Obama interview didn't you?"

"I sure did, biscuit."

"I did it for you, muffin pan-"

"Alright, you two," Stevezie says, "We have at least a dozen more applicants lined up out there and we need to get rolling if we're ever going to get this Manse off the ground again."

Stephen stands to attention and snaps a sharp salute. "Ready for husband duty!"

"At ease," I say. "Now go sit on the couch and be ready to give me silent remarks on the incoming potential Manse dwellers."

Jon, who has taken his position on the couch next to Stevezie, raises his hand.

"Yes, Jon?"

"Where can I get some of that vetting action?"

I roll my eyes and sit heavily in my chair, staring at Jon. "You're on deck tonight. Be alert. Be ready."

"Absolutely, Madam."

I spin my chair to face forward again. "Number One, who's next?"

Stevezie checks the list. "Sir Kenneth Branagh."

I sigh in an an unabashedly fangirlish manner. "Let's get him in here already!"


End file.
